


Of Mêlées and Soirées

by pyrocitor



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Tournaments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-09
Updated: 2017-02-10
Packaged: 2018-09-23 04:04:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9639986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pyrocitor/pseuds/pyrocitor
Summary: Ashlin Trevelyan returns with more antics to annoy Josie, while she attempts to fix social situations the Inquisitor barges through.EDIT: As of the 10th, I've done an entire revise of this fic. I wasn't too happy with it before, but I'm a lot more confident now. Thanks for sticking with it. :D





	1. Catalyst

** Prologue  
** _Catalyst_

The Breach had been sealed, and an assassination attempt on the Empress’ life had been thwarted, yet, still Orlais found time and budget for a party, but, less a party, and more of a tourney this time. So, when Ashlin Trevelyan, the Herald of Andraste and leader of the Inquisition , prevented Celene’s passing; she was granted a soiree in her honour. Josephine was thoroughly delighted by this news, and had already begun to plan the décor within seconds of the announcement - then Ashlin, with that typical Marcher crudeness, somehow decides it's a good idea to open her mouth and say the words; “A party sounds lovely, but to be honest, I’d rather be crushing heads.”Even when they had returned to Skyhold, Leliana swore that she had even  _heard_ the shaking of Josie’s head when the mage began to speak.

Of course, the Empress then declares that a tourney was to take place in honour of the Inquisitor and her Inquisition. Ashlin hadn’t even needed to speak to Josephine for the ambassador to know that, if she had to attend any kind of Orlesian social event, she would hope for something involving fighting of any kind. Curiously, the Empress had even encouraged the Inquisitor to create a new event for the tournament - and less curiously, she responded without thinking and began to speak of her "exceptional" abilities as a Knight-Enchanter.

So, while Cullen had _much_ to say in response to that particular section of the entire event, Josephine was eventually able to convince him that while it was ultimately a trap for the Empire (mostly to gauge the Inquisitor's abilities for their own eyes); it would be more detrimental to refuse. Ashlin, and her talent of being unable to take anything of worth seriously, leaped at the offer, and it was set. To decline the invitation now, especially after acceptance from the Inquisitor herself, was not an option the Inquisition could afford.

The next day Ashlin restored her quest of returned to the Dales under active duty; traipsing around the Exalted Plains, lending the Inquisition’s aid to the desperate Orlesians. Luckily for Josephine however, she had taken the Tevinter mage with her, as the ambassador wished to discuss the tourney with Vivienne; and Dorian always seemed intent to _hover_ whenever she was able to speak with the First Enchanter. It was a particular skill he owned, to exhume gossip where none even existed, and while he was indeed remarkably charming and even at times pleasant to converse with - he wasn't exactly subtle, and tended to make enemies no matter who he was chatting with.

* * *

 “What would it even consist of? Would it be of any danger to the bystanders? And what about Ashlin! Maker knows if she gets hurt… Why did she agree to this, what was she thinking!”

What had begun as a pliant and docile exchange between the two women ended with the ambassador pouring out her aching heart to Vivienne. Even before their relationship became intimate, Josephine had done all she possibly could have to separate Ashlin from The Game; it was dangerous enough for a veteran to play; but an amateur, a mage, and furthermore, a Marcher (a nation the Orlesians considered rude, barbaric and ignorant) – it was a deadly combination. While it helped that the Trevelyans were extremely religious, mostly known as amiable and friendly and in relatively good standing within the Free Marches; in no way did it fix that Ashlin had little to no social skills herself when it came to Orlais. Ashlin’s bumblings in Val Royeaux could cost the Inquisition as much as a lost battle, arguably, maybe even more. But, at the very least, Josephine was glad enough that there was at least another accomplished player of The Game who understood Ashlin’s plight, as a Circle mage and an outsider.

“Josie, dear, do be quiet and sit for a moment.” Vivienne started, as calm as she ever was. She gracefully twisted and plucked up two wine goblets sat on a side table beside her and placed one into Josephine’s shaking hands.  “Drink it; it’ll help calm your nerves.”

The ambassador took a couple of trembling sips, grateful at once when she had tasted the fluid and recognised the fruity, sweet aspects of it. Antivan wine.  _Expensive_ Antivan wine. But, she resisted the urge to question the enchanter's excellent taste in alcohol and instead focused on calming herself, gesturing to Vivienne to continue her speech. 

“My dear, it's exclusively dangerous to whoever is in the ring; and only if we make it dangerous. _I_ will be the one to first face your darling Inquisitor, so I do hope you trust me enough to not make a mess of her.” The mage took a long, slow swig from her goblet, savouring the drink for a moment, and then replaced the container onto the table beside her. Sighing, she took a seat by Josephine, and held the ambassador’s hands in her own. “It’ll be alright, I promise you.”


	2. A Diplomat's Wants

**Interlogue  
**_A Diplomat’s Wants_  

A week later, while Josephine was busy filing various letters and decrees at her desk, her quiet was obnoxiously interrupted as her door swung open, clanging against the stone wall. Sighing, she allowed the sound to ripple through Skyhold for a moment until it quietened, then faced her opponent, ready to reprimand the fool, however, instead she saw the beaming face of her love, gawking awkwardly at her from across the room.

Smiles now plastered on the ambassador's face, she was only just able to say the words, “you’re back!” and stand from her chair before Ashlin swept across the floor and all but dived over the table to embrace her. Ordinarily, Josephine would be furious at whoever disrupted her while she was so deep in work, even more so when they ruin the explicit catalogue she had been creating, but the last thing on her mind at this point was her damn papers; all that mattered was Ashlin returning to her once more.. She would never admit it to the Inquisitor, but every time the mage left Skyhold, Josephine barely slept; her worry keeping her awake for weeks, at times.

“I got you something,” Ashlin mumbled into her lover's shoulder, clutching to her so desperately that the diplomat was scarcely able to hear what was said. Slowly, Josephine was able to untangle herself from the Marcher’s vice-like grip, and guided her over to the fireplace, so she may gaze at the mage in the light.

“You are a gift enough, my love.” Josephine touched her palm to the mage’s cheek, grinning slightly from the blush it created. At the beginning of their relationship, Ashlin had always known what to say or do in order to flush Josie’s cheeks; but now, as Josephine had become accustomed to Ashlin’s mannerisms, the tables had turned. Even though, despite that she did sometimes say these things to agitate Ashlin as light-hearted revenge, they both knew how much the Antivan was sincere with what she spoke. Ashlin would sometimes say that she did not believe the ambassador even knew how to lie.

“Even so,” the Inquistor began, placing her hand above Josephine’s, then twisting her head slightly to place a kiss onto the palm facing her. “I want you to have it.” She released her hands after this and reached into the leather pouch on her hip, bringing forth the item in question, and shoving it into the ambassador’s hands roughly. “There was a Dalish clan in the plains,” she brought her hands to her side, allowing Josephine to identify whatever had been given to her.

“Oh, Ashlin… It’s gorgeous…” Almost speechless, she risked taking her eyes off the figure and looked to Ashlin, who in turn, was staring down at her with the same crushing passion and devotion that Josephine felt she couldn't breathe.

“They make Halla figures usually, but I was able to convince them to carve that instead.”

The diplomat turned her eyes back to the antler ivory figure in her hands; an exquisite, intricate carving of a galleon. Not only that, but specifically the Montilyet family crest; the same crest which adorned the antique wooden carving that Ashlin had found for her barely a week ago. Unable to think of any way to thank her, she instead clutched the galleon in her hands; desperately searching her mind for any tangible form of gratitude.

"From sea to shore," She heard the Inquisitor speak. Grinning, her eyes once again found her partner's.

"We tame the waves."

Gingerly, Ashlin leaned over to her, silver eyes shining a proclamation of love after she pressed a tender kiss to the ambassador's lips.


	3. On My Honour

**Epilogue  
**_On My Honour_  

After almost a week of travel, the Inquisition had almost returned to Val Royeaux – and despite the many offers that Magister Alexius had made regarding time manipulation - Ashlin, on Dorian’s advice, had ordered the magister where to put his opinions; but it was something Josephine felt did not bear repeating. Nevertheless, the journey had been uneventful, apart from Ashlin’s insistence on riding beside her the entire way, with Leliana, who admittedly was even quite fond of the Free Marcher, riding to the opposite side. Josephine, surprisingly, wasn’t paying much attention to the why, after hearing the word ‘frolicking’ used one too many times her concentration instead frayed to the Inquisitor, who had begun to tell yet another tale about her childhood.

While she spoke, it occured to Josephine exactly how much of an impact they had to one another's personality. She felt that she was considerably more thick-skinned since working with the Inquisitor, and that typically, when speaking with nobility of almost any kind, Ashlin enjoyed a rather colourful and vibrant manner of speech – Josephine would now describe her conversations as civil and possibly even cordial, on occasion. The ambassador knew it was the sort of behaviour that would never be completely absent from the Marcher's speech, and to be truthful, she did wish it to; strangely enough, she found it endearing; a supplement to her charm. It gave the mage cause to be honest, and genuine, and above all else, it created a challenge. The ambassador, after her studies, and a lifetime of all matters nobility it had become routine, and if she dared used the word; tedious at times.

With intent ears, Josephine sat silently in the saddle of her taslin strider, a tall and gentle beast that Ashlin had affectionately named Prince - it had been part of a gift to the advisers in the fifty-long page trade agreement between the Antivan merchant princes and the Inquisition. But before Josephine had realised, the Inquisition had closed on Val Royeaux, and the Inquisitor had postponed the ending to her story, now unable to hold in her excitement about the tournament.

Only the advisers and a few of Ashlin’s companions actually entered Val Royeaux, the rest of the men and women they brought with them erected tents not far from the tourney grounds, where the Empress had meats, vegetables and bread sent to them to make stews later in the night. The Inquisitor's band, however, were guests who enjoyed the luxuries of the Imperial Palace. It was during this night that Josephine learned of the Inquisitor’s musical talents; according to Ashlin, a Dalish castaway taught her to whittle shafts of wood into Elven flutes, and in return the young Trevelyan assisted the elf with her studies.

The other noteworthy affair during the night was the sly skulking of the Inquisitor around the Imperial Palace to find Josephine's room. According to Leliana; Ashlin had disturbed Cassandra, Dorian, Cullen, Blackwall and even Varric before she finally came upon the ambassador. But, despite the gossip it would cause, Josie forbid herself to complain; sleeping with a mage, Marcher Trevelyan in a bed of the Imperial Palace under the Empress' nose... It was ballad-worthy.

* * *

Upon the next morn, once the diplomat was awake, dressed and had a full stomach from breakfast; she joined the other various members of the Inqusition to attend the tourney, and eventually, was joined by Ashlin a little later, as the mage came sliding into the seat alongside Josie at an embarrassingly late time.

“You’re late.” Josephine hissed, not averting her gaze from the archery field to look at her. “It’s almost time for the melee.”

“I was training.” Ashlin replied quietly, reaching over to slip something under Josephine’s hands, which were placed on her lap. For the sake of not being noticed, the ambassador allowed her to, swiftly gripping the piece of cloth in her hands as soon as Ashlin withdrew hers.

At this point, Josephine risked a glance in her love’s direction, and was infinitely glad she did, as it appeared as if Ashlin was reaching forward to kiss her cheek – and as much as the Antivan enjoyed their tender attentions towards one another in private, doing such an act in public, and the middle of a tourney however, was something she could not stand for. Quickly, she pushed Ashlin away at the shoulder, but still could not prevent a small smile escape and a blush appear on her cheeks; “Good luck, Lady Trevelyan.”

The Inquisitor nodded, grinning to the woman, then left almost as rapidly as she arrived.

* * *

It wasn’t until it was Ashlin’s turn to fight did Josephine finally understand what had been given to her, as Ashlin, clad in all her mail, as formidable as any soldier, requested a token from her lady; a silence fell across the crowd as almost all of Val Royeaux’s nobility looked immediately to her. Dorian, sat alongside Josephine with the rest of the Inquisition advisers and Ashlin’s companions, nudged the diplomat, whispering to her not at all discreetly; “That means you, Josie.”

Some how Josephine was able to make her way down the steps towards Ashlin, albiet excruciatingly slowly. All the while, clutching the cloth in her hands till her knuckles were white. However, when she finally reached the battlemage, and their eyes met once more; all of her worries were allayed, and she tied the scarf around her lover's neck herself, without fear or shame – cursing the times she was ever embarrassed by this woman, who had, in this day, forsaken her titles, her family and her heritage in a battle she fought before the the utmost of Orlesian court; today, she wore the colours and crest of House Montilyet.

With Josephine’s family only just able to trade in Orlais once more; the progress had been far slower than the Antivan anticipated, an issue she had discussed with the mage before. But, while the Inquisitor knew very little of Orlesian (or Antivan) trade and politics – at the very least she understood that a champion of any House winning a Royal Orlesian tourney was an exceedingly high honour, and that many Orlesian merchants would flock to the Montilyet name because of it. Even so – it would undoubtedly anger the Trevelyans. A family who valued tradition, loyalty and piety above all else.

Josephine did not believe that she took one breath between the giving of her token and the announcement of Ashlin’s victory and could scarcely believe what she was witnessing when the Inquisitor visited the Empress’ podium, still in her armour - colours and crest adorned, to collect her prize. Instantly; she concluded that she would never feel as proud of her as she did in this moment, but desperately longed that she would be wrong with such a thought.

At the very least – it would be the talk of Val Royeaux for weeks to come.


End file.
